


Dreaming Evidently

by jkkitty



Series: Halloween [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Case Fic, Spooky, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 03:30:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12521992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkkitty/pseuds/jkkitty
Summary: Prompts for Spook ME:  ghost, and two pictures belowJohn convinces Sherlock to take a case that is only a 3 for his friend.Thanks to my Beta Sparky





	Dreaming Evidently

“Jawnnnn, you can’t possibly be seriously asking me to do this,” Sherlock whined.

Receiving a glare from John, Sherlock tried another approach.  “I can’t take it. The Jolase case is still ongoing so I can’t start another one.”

“A case which doesn’t need you until Monday.  This will only take tomorrow night,” John countered arms crossed across his chest.

“But it’s not my kind of case, it’s not even a 3.”  Sherlock continued to whine.

John gave out a frustrated sign.  “I have never asked you to take a case for me.   When you need me.  I’m always there, aren’t I?  Just this once, can’t you change your rules for me?” 

Sherlock saw the look on John’s face, and the guilt he felt made his chest hurt and gave in.  “Tell me about it again.”

John's eyes lit up and his face broke out in a smile.  “My friend, Nicole Sambal, inherited a house and is trying to update it so she and her new husband can live there when it’s up to code.  However, each day when they arrive to work on it, things are missing, walls have smelly substance on them and some of what had already been worked on is destroyed. 

“The police have searched the house more than once to find nothing,”

John was interrupted as Sherlock commented, “When can they ever?” However, another glare from John stopped him from saying more.

“The police had taken to staking out the house when no one was there.  Then yesterday bloody messages were left on the newly painted wall.”

“And what did the suddenly appearing message say?” Sherlock yawned as he asked.

“Murderer, adultery, run for your life.” 

“So, let me get this straight.  You want me to look into a three to find a common mischief maker.”  Sherlock snorted again before turning toward the back of the couch.

“Well someone tried to kill Nicole’s husband last night. Although he saw no one, he was pushed down the stairs.  And again, this is the first time I’m asking you to take a case for me.”  John's voice carried his disappointment with the detective’s attitude.

Sherlock turned and was surprised to see the miserable look on John’s face. He hated emotions but tried to figure out why John looked like that.  Then it became clear.  John followed him everywhere often calling into his job to help.  He protected him and provided him with insight and gave him his friendship. 

“Just this once,” Sherlock mumbled.

“I shouldn’t have asked this of you.  It’s against every rule you have.  I’m sorry,” John faint voice could be heard as he began to leave the room.

Sherlock sprung up from the couch.   “Didn’t you hear me? I said I’d do it.  Tell your friend we’ll be there tomorrow morning and not to disturb anything more than it already has been shifted.”’

He left the room calling over his shoulder, “Molly has a diseased spleen for me. I hope you don’t object if I bring it home as it will need to be refrigerated.”

John knew he was being taken advantage of but didn’t want to give Sherlock a reason to back out investigating of considering Nicole’s problem.  “Of course not.” 

After Sherlock entered his bedroom to go by Molly, John grinned.  He couldn’t believe he guilted Sherlock into taking the case. 

Sherlock came out of the bedroom heading toward the door, “And John, next time you try to guilt someone into doing something, I suggest you try a little harder.” And ran down the stairs.

John sat silently trying to figure out what gave him away, but after a moment he didn’t care and laughed aloud.  Sherlock had allowed him to make a fool out of himself, but at least he was going to look into Nicole’s problems.

Arriving at Nichole’s house, Sherlock ignored the man and woman waiting for them.   He headed right to the building and began to examine the ground and surrounding area.

“John?”  Nicole’s questioned what Sherlock was doing.

“Sorry, Sherlock isn’t good at social niceties,” He looked at Nicole’s husband.   “I’m John Watson and that is Sherlock Holmes.”

Nicole who had her arm around her husband said, “This is my husband Antonio.  Darling, this is my friend Doctor John Watson.”

“I’m sorry that Nicole felt she needed to waste your partner’s and your time.  Really this is not necessary.”  Antonio glared at Nicole.  “Please have some tea before returning home.”

Sherlock had come up behind Antonio while he spoke. “There are only you, your wife and four, no five workmen correct?”

“Yes,” Nicole answered before Antonio could.  “We had others at the beginning of the remodeling who wouldn’t return after the words on the wall.”

“And the words were in blood?  Who verified…” Sherlock’s words were cut off as the sound of crashing and destruction were heard inside.  Taking off running toward the sound, coat flapping in the wind, and the yell of “John, the back”, he entered the house without stopping.

As he entered the house, the noise stopped.  Moving through the house, John soon joined him with a shake of his head.  “No one out the back.”

 They continued through the house until meeting up in the large dining room that had been destroyed.  The walls had holes in them, chairs were broken on the floor, and glass was all over the table from the smashed chandelier. The words _killer_ , _destroyer_ , and _slaughterer_ were written in blood on the only wall without holes in it.  Glancing around the room, Sherlock soon was crawling around the floor where the Sambals found him.

“What is he doing?” Antonio demanded.

“Antonio, please.  He’s our guest, and I did ask for his help.”  Nicole begged.

Jumping up, Sherlock ordered, “Tell me when was the last time someone was in this room?”

“Although it is none of your business, we finished this room about two weeks ago and the room has been closed since then.” Antonio’s angry answer echoed through the room and his clenched fists frightened Nicole, causing her to move away from her husband and closer to John who wrapped his arm around the crying woman’s shoulder. 

“Darling please,” she pleaded through her tears.  “We have to find out who is doing this to us and my friend Dr. Watson and his partner Mr. Holmes are here to uncover for who is doing this to us.”

“Yes, I can see what Dr. Watson hopes to achieve on this visit,” as he pulled his wife out of John’s arm.

Seeing the anger rising in Watson, Sherlock placed his hand on John’s shoulder.  “The reason I asked, is there are no footprints visible in the thick carpet.  As for Dr. Watson’s intentions, I assure you, he only wishes to help your wife with the destruction of her house.”  He turned to John, “I believe we’ll have to stay the night to find out who is responsible for this damage.”

“There is no need,” Antonio insisted. 

“I believe it’s your wife’s house and her decision,” Sherlock turned to the woman ignoring the husband completely.

“I am her husband and will decide who or what will be done with this house.” Livid that Sherlock had spoken to him like that.  “And you will leave now.”

“Antonio, please.  Something is wrong here, let them help us put a stop to it. I’m frightened darling.”

The murderous look on Antonio’s face had John moving in front of Nicole.  “I see where your allegiances lie.  Stay with your precious doctor.  I’m going home.” 

As he left the room, Nicole went to call him back but Sherlock stopped her.  “Let him leave, show us the other things that happen and where.  Plus tell us more about your husband.”

Nicole led the men out of the room and showed them around the house.   Other rooms had damage and blood-tinted words on the walls.  Each word seemed a condemnation. On the stairs, they included _criminal, butcher, killer, murdered, and slaughterer_.  In the bedroom, they found _debaucher, womanizer, and adulterer._

“Tell me about your husband,” Sherlock encouraged the crying woman when they returned from the tour.

“You don’t think he has anything to do with this, do you?”  Her voice was shaken.

“Of course not,” John hurried to assure her with a glance that warned Sherlock not to say he did.

“I met him in India when I was trying to get over the grief of my father’s death.  He told me his wife had died a few months before by falling down the stairs and he needed some time to accept it.  Because both of us were trying to heal, we found ourselves connecting in our grief.  After a few months, he asked me to marry him.”

“We decided to return home after the wedding. Seeing the house my father left me, Antonio decided we should remodel it and take up residence.  At first, things were fine, but when the bedroom and a few of the other rooms were made habitable we took up residence.  That’s when all the trouble started. Just little things at first, things missing and unexplained noises.  It didn’t take long before things became bad enough we needed to move out and stay in a rented room.”

“Did anything unusual start before you returned?”  Sherlock sitting in his thinking pose asked.

“Do you mean like this?”  Nicole asked.

“Anything?”

“Well there was a few things that went missing and that was disturbing but other than that no.”

“What type of things?”

“Antonio’s wedding ring from his first wife and a couple pieces of clothing from before he knew me.  Oh, and a picture frame of him and his first wife fell suddenly breaking it.” Nicole realized what she had said.  “To be honest, I had told him it didn’t bother me that he had it out, but it did.”

“I see.  Well, I suggest you leave and let us work on your problem.  However, I would like you to spend the night with Mrs. Hudson at 221A Baker Street.”

“But Antonio and I have a room at a hotel,” Nicole didn’t understand why Sherlock didn’t want her to stay with her husband.

“Mrs. Sambal, you asked for my help.   Either abide by my request or I’ll assume you’ve changed your mind,” Sherlock’s offensive tone shocked even John.

“Sherlock!” John anger at his partner obvious.

Nicole looked at John then Sherlock, “I do not appreciate your tone Mr. Holmes, but as I wish to find the underlying cause of this, I’ll do as you ask.”  With that Nicole left the two men alone.

“That was rude Sherlock.  Couldn’t you for once be kind?”  John demanded.

“Would it do her any good?   I need to call Mrs. Hudson and tell her to expect Mrs. Sambal.”   Sherlock quickly called Mrs. Hudson and sweet talked her into allowing Nicole to stay the night. 

After hanging up, he began to search every corner of the dining room.

Standing up, he found John in his way.

 “You take advantage of that woman too much,” John complained.

“She likes to help me. Now are you going to help me search or not?”

“Are you going to tell me why you sent her to Mrs. Hudson?”  

“Once more you hear but don’t understand.   Her problems began once she married Antonio who has a nasty temper and quick to anger.   His first wife died accidently.  While she was talking I looked up the accident.  It seems when she fell she landed on a piece of a glass vase that had fallen with her.  The glass cut her head off.”

John stared at him, “That’s not possible unless the glass was very heavy and large.”

“The pathologist agreed with you, but nothing could be proven.   Then I looked up Antonio Sambal and it seems his first wife left him millions of dollars on her death.  Finally, the only things disturbed before their arrival here was his.”

“It seems to me he murdered his wife, but who is destroying the house?” 

“John, although I’m a scientist there are somethings that are unable to be explained.  Some believe a ghost can haunt a residence while others believe it can be attracted to a person. Personally, I believe it’s all rubbish. Now can we get back to ensuring everything is locks up tight and wait for our vandal.”

Lights off the two men sat on opposites couches in the dining room.   Speaking softly, they discussed the other case that they would be following on Monday.   As the night dragged on, John slipped into sleep.  Sherlock noticing it stood only to fall to the floor into a mist that covered it.

“Stop it, John,” Sherlock groggy voice complained pulling covers back over him.  

Giggles echoed in the room, as the covers were pulled down again, Sherlock turned on the couch while grabbing the covers that were being pulled off again.

“I’ wanta play,” the giggle voice said. 

Sherlock looked at the transparent figure before him.  He knew he was asleep but felt himself sitting up and grabbing his head that was pounding.  He could see John sleeping soundly on the other couch.  

Slowly the night came back to him.  He had fallen on the floor so how did he wake up on the couch.

 “Who are you?” Sherlock asked the child.  Her dress was flowing around her as if a wind was blowing hard. 

“I’m Isabelle and I want to play with you,” a whisper answered followed by a giggle.

“Isabelle, do you know how I got on the couch?” 

“My friend Abigail put you there.  She says the floor is hard and I shouldn’t have made the mist come and put you to sleep.   But I want to play and everyone else runs away from me.” The sad whisper explained.  “Can I ask you a question?”

“You can if you’re not boring,” Sherlock allowed.

Giggle, giggle, giggle.  “You are funny.   Why are you not afraid of me?”

“I believe you’re a dream figment of my concussed brain.  So why are you here?”

“I lost my mommy and daddy. They left me here after I feel down the stairs and I cannot find them now.   They always told me not to leave the house without them, so I am waiting for them.   What is your name?”

“Sherlock,” he said as he tried to figure out why he was dreaming this.  He never dreamed of anything but horrors of his past.

“I do not like Sherlock so I am going to call you Lockie.  Will you play with me now?”

“You’ll not call me Lockie and I’m way too busy to play with you.”  He felt his body raising, “Where is this Abigail?”

“Behind you,” a soft voice said.

Spinning around, he saw a transparent beautiful woman, negligée flowing around her, head in her hand coming down the stairs.  “You need to protect Nicole.  My husband is evil.”

“And you are?” He asked, not even concerned what he saw couldn’t be.

Furious she answered, “Abigail Sambal, my husband’s first wife who he murdered.”

“And so, you’re trying to scare Nicole out of her house.”  Sherlock challenged her.

“No, I want my husband dead.  I’m not the first woman he killed for their money.  He is a slaughterer of women.  He needs to die.”  Abigail hissed.

“And how madam, do you plan to do it?  You have no form or mass.  This dream is ridiculous.  I’m talking to myself.”  Sherlock was angry with himself that he couldn’t wake up and discover he was still on the floor.

A heavy Indignant wind blew him back onto the floor, “You’re not listening, Mr. Holmes.  I plan on killing my husband and demand you help me.”

“I don’t kill murderers, I arrest them.” 

“So, what happened to Charles Magnuseen then?”  The ghost demanded.

“A mistake on my part that I don’t intend to repeat.”  Sherlock quietly said.

A booming voice echoed through the room, “So you get to decide who is to be killed and who to live.   I want Antonio dead.”

 “Summon my husband,” Abigail ordered.

“I will do no such thing,” he replied.

“Then I will,” she said. 

“Can we play now, Abie?  I want to play with Lockie,” Isabelle pouted.

“Not yet, sweetheart.  Soon someone else will be here to play with,” Abigail ran her free hand through the girl’s hair.

“Seeing we’ll be waiting for someone, what exactly happened to you?” Sherlock asked the ghost crossing his legs and leaning against the back of the couch.

“I found out about Antonio’s previous three wives that he married under different names who died mysteriously and confronted him.  He attempted to push me down the stairs of our mansion.  I fought him but he was able to overwhelm me and send me down them.  He came to find me still alive but unable to move.  Grabbing a glass vase, he broke it on the banister, taking a large piece of it and pressing it into my neck and severing it before setting up the scene to look like it happened in the fall.”

“And how do you know all this?  You were dead by this point.”  Sherlock challenged.

“I know you think if you can’t see it, it’s not true.  But there’s life after death, and I saw him doing it.”  She shot back.

Before anything else could be said, Antonio burst into the room.   “What the hell is this, Holmes?”  He demanded shoving a text message in his face.  Sherlock found himself unable to free himself from the couch and only able to watch what was happening.

A whispery voice spoke, “I sent it Antonio, my dear husband.”

The murderer turned and became ghostly white.  “You’re dead.”

“Yes, I am.  I don’t intend to allow you kill another woman, my husband.”

Anger rushed through Antonio.  “I killed you once and I’ll do it again.   He ran at his dead wife as she floated up the steps.  As he reached the top of the stairs, Abigail said, “You can play now.”  Isabelle ran through his legs causing him to fall backwards down the staircase.  A glass vase smashed against the floor as Antonio landed on the ground, its shards poking through his neck, killing him. 

The night broke through John’s slumber causing him to blink at his sleeping roommate on the floor.  “Sherlock?”   He called out as he attempted to go to him.

A giggle and then John saw a small girl standing over Sherlock.  “Thanks for playing with my Lockie.  I need to go now.  Isabelle said she’ll stay with me until mummy and daddy come back.” Then disappeared.

Nicole entered the room to see Antonio’s body at the bottom of the steps and the men just waking up from the couch. 

“Antonio,” she cried rushing and falling to the ground over him. Blood covering her, as she attempted to hug him.

John gently picked her up and moved her to the chair.

“Don’t mourn him.  He’s a criminal who killed his previous four wives for their money.  You’re lucky to be rid of him.”  Sherlock said.

“Sherlock!” John yelled.

“What it’s the truth.  She needs to know.”  Sherlock explained.

“It’s not good, you git.  He husband is laying there dead and no matter what he did she loved him.”  Came the cross answer.

“Emotions are not useful in this situation,” and with that Sherlock went into the other room to call the police.  When they came, Sherlock explained that Antonio had fallen down the stairs, landing on broken glass that killed him. 

After the police left and the body was taken away, Nicole demanded that Sherlock explained to her what he had learned about her husband.  He looked at John to ensure that he wasn’t going to get in further trouble with his partner before explaining the information to her.

“What do I do with this house now, Mr. Holmes?  I can’t live where my husband died no matter what he did before.”  Nicole asked.

Sherlock pulled his coat close to himself as he headed for the door. 

“Mr. Holmes, you didn’t answer my question.  What do I do with the house?”

Sherlock twirled around, face without emotion.  “Either accept what happened there or sell it.   Whatever you decide, I’m done here.”   Giggles followed the Sherlock down the walk and a whispered ‘good-bye Lockie” and “I’ll watch over Isabelle now.”

John caught up with his partner as they reached the road.  “You’re admitting to the possibility of a ghost?”

The cab Sherlock hailed pulled up and he hurried in.  John jumped into the cab, “Do you plan to answer my question?”

“I believe that someone was looking for justice for his other wives. It will no longer be a problem with him dead.”

“And the child, I saw you talking to when I woke up?”  John pushed.

“

“Jawnnnn, you can’t possibly be seriously asking me to do this,” Sherlock whined.

Receiving a glare from John, Sherlock tried another approach.  “I can’t take it. The Jolase case is still ongoing so I can’t start another one.”

“A case which doesn’t need you until Monday.  This will only take tomorrow night,” John countered arms crossed across his chest.

“But it’s not my kind of case, it’s not even a 3.”  Sherlock continued to whine.

John gave out a frustrated sign.  “I have never asked you to take a case for me.   When you need me.  I’m always there, aren’t I?  Just this once, can’t you change your rules for me?” 

Sherlock saw the look on John’s face, and the guilt he felt made his chest hurt and gave in.  “Tell me about it again.”

John's eyes lit up and his face broke out in a smile.  “My friend, Nicole Sambal, inherited a house and is trying to update it so she and her new husband can live there when it’s up to code.  However, each day when they arrive to work on it, things are missing, walls have smelly substance on them and some of what had already been worked on is destroyed. 

“The police have searched the house more than once to find nothing,”

John was interrupted as Sherlock commented, “When can they ever?” However, another glare from John stopped him from saying more.

“The police had taken to staking out the house when no one was there.  Then yesterday bloody messages were left on the newly painted wall.”

“And what did the suddenly appearing message say?” Sherlock yawned as he asked.

“Murderer, adultery, run for your life.” 

“So, let me get this straight.  You want me to look into a three to find a common mischief maker.”  Sherlock snorted again before turning toward the back of the couch.

“Well someone tried to kill Nicole’s husband last night. Although he saw no one, he was pushed down the stairs.  And again, this is the first time I’m asking you to take a case for me.”  John's voice carried his disappointment with the detective’s attitude.

Sherlock turned and was surprised to see the miserable look on John’s face. He hated emotions but tried to figure out why John looked like that.  Then it became clear.  John followed him everywhere often calling into his job to help.  He protected him and provided him with insight and gave him his friendship. 

“Just this once,” Sherlock mumbled.

“I shouldn’t have asked this of you.  It’s against every rule you have.  I’m sorry,” John faint voice could be heard as he began to leave the room.

Sherlock sprung up from the couch.   “Didn’t you hear me? I said I’d do it.  Tell your friend we’ll be there tomorrow morning and not to disturb anything more than it already has been shifted.”’

He left the room calling over his shoulder, “Molly has a diseased spleen for me. I hope you don’t object if I bring it home as it will need to be refrigerated.”

John knew he was being taken advantage of but didn’t want to give Sherlock a reason to back out investigating of considering Nicole’s problem.  “Of course not.” 

After Sherlock entered his bedroom to go by Molly, John grinned.  He couldn’t believe he guilted Sherlock into taking the case. 

Sherlock came out of the bedroom heading toward the door, “And John, next time you try to guilt someone into doing something, I suggest you try a little harder.” And ran down the stairs.

John sat silently trying to figure out what gave him away, but after a moment he didn’t care and laughed aloud.  Sherlock had allowed him to make a fool out of himself, but at least he was going to look into Nicole’s problems.

Arriving at Nichole’s house, Sherlock ignored the man and woman waiting for them.   He headed right to the building and began to examine the ground and surrounding area.

“John?”  Nicole’s questioned what Sherlock was doing.

“Sorry, Sherlock isn’t good at social niceties,” He looked at Nicole’s husband.   “I’m John Watson and that is Sherlock Holmes.”

Nicole who had her arm around her husband said, “This is my husband Antonio.  Darling, this is my friend Doctor John Watson.”

“I’m sorry that Nicole felt she needed to waste your partner’s and your time.  Really this is not necessary.”  Antonio glared at Nicole.  “Please have some tea before returning home.”

Sherlock had come up behind Antonio while he spoke. “There are only you, your wife and four, no five workmen correct?”

“Yes,” Nicole answered before Antonio could.  “We had others at the beginning of the remodeling who wouldn’t return after the words on the wall.”

“And the words were in blood?  Who verified…” Sherlock’s words were cut off as the sound of crashing and destruction were heard inside.  Taking off running toward the sound, coat flapping in the wind, and the yell of “John, the back”, he entered the house without stopping.

As he entered the house, the noise stopped.  Moving through the house, John soon joined him with a shake of his head.  “No one out the back.”

 They continued through the house until meeting up in the large dining room that had been destroyed.  The walls had holes in them, chairs were broken on the floor, and glass was all over the table from the smashed chandelier. The words _killer_ , _destroyer_ , and _slaughterer_ were written in blood on the only wall without holes in it.  Glancing around the room, Sherlock soon was crawling around the floor where the Sambals found him.

“What is he doing?” Antonio demanded.

“Antonio, please.  He’s our guest, and I did ask for his help.”  Nicole begged.

Jumping up, Sherlock ordered, “Tell me when was the last time someone was in this room?”

“Although it is none of your business, we finished this room about two weeks ago and the room has been closed since then.” Antonio’s angry answer echoed through the room and his clenched fists frightened Nicole, causing her to move away from her husband and closer to John who wrapped his arm around the crying woman’s shoulder. 

“Darling please,” she pleaded through her tears.  “We have to find out who is doing this to us and my friend Dr. Watson and his partner Mr. Holmes are here to uncover for who is doing this to us.”

“Yes, I can see what Dr. Watson hopes to achieve on this visit,” as he pulled his wife out of John’s arm.

Seeing the anger rising in Watson, Sherlock placed his hand on John’s shoulder.  “The reason I asked, is there are no footprints visible in the thick carpet.  As for Dr. Watson’s intentions, I assure you, he only wishes to help your wife with the destruction of her house.”  He turned to John, “I believe we’ll have to stay the night to find out who is responsible for this damage.”

“There is no need,” Antonio insisted. 

“I believe it’s your wife’s house and her decision,” Sherlock turned to the woman ignoring the husband completely.

“I am her husband and will decide who or what will be done with this house.” Livid that Sherlock had spoken to him like that.  “And you will leave now.”

“Antonio, please.  Something is wrong here, let them help us put a stop to it. I’m frightened darling.”

The murderous look on Antonio’s face had John moving in front of Nicole.  “I see where your allegiances lie.  Stay with your precious doctor.  I’m going home.” 

As he left the room, Nicole went to call him back but Sherlock stopped her.  “Let him leave, show us the other things that happen and where.  Plus tell us more about your husband.”

Nicole led the men out of the room and showed them around the house.   Other rooms had damage and blood-tinted words on the walls.  Each word seemed a condemnation. On the stairs, they included _criminal, butcher, killer, murdered, and slaughterer_.  In the bedroom, they found _debaucher, womanizer, and adulterer._

“Tell me about your husband,” Sherlock encouraged the crying woman when they returned from the tour.

“You don’t think he has anything to do with this, do you?”  Her voice was shaken.

“Of course not,” John hurried to assure her with a glance that warned Sherlock not to say he did.

“I met him in India when I was trying to get over the grief of my father’s death.  He told me his wife had died a few months before by falling down the stairs and he needed some time to accept it.  Because both of us were trying to heal, we found ourselves connecting in our grief.  After a few months, he asked me to marry him.”

“We decided to return home after the wedding. Seeing the house my father left me, Antonio decided we should remodel it and take up residence.  At first, things were fine, but when the bedroom and a few of the other rooms were made habitable we took up residence.  That’s when all the trouble started. Just little things at first, things missing and unexplained noises.  It didn’t take long before things became bad enough we needed to move out and stay in a rented room.”

“Did anything unusual start before you returned?”  Sherlock sitting in his thinking pose asked.

“Do you mean like this?”  Nicole asked.

“Anything?”

“Well there was a few things that went missing and that was disturbing but other than that no.”

“What type of things?”

“Antonio’s wedding ring from his first wife and a couple pieces of clothing from before he knew me.  Oh, and a picture frame of him and his first wife fell suddenly breaking it.” Nicole realized what she had said.  “To be honest, I had told him it didn’t bother me that he had it out, but it did.”

“I see.  Well, I suggest you leave and let us work on your problem.  However, I would like you to spend the night with Mrs. Hudson at 221A Baker Street.”

“But Antonio and I have a room at a hotel,” Nicole didn’t understand why Sherlock didn’t want her to stay with her husband.

“Mrs. Sambal, you asked for my help.   Either abide by my request or I’ll assume you’ve changed your mind,” Sherlock’s offensive tone shocked even John.

“Sherlock!” John anger at his partner obvious.

Nicole looked at John then Sherlock, “I do not appreciate your tone Mr. Holmes, but as I wish to find the underlying cause of this, I’ll do as you ask.”  With that Nicole left the two men alone.

“That was rude Sherlock.  Couldn’t you for once be kind?”  John demanded.

“Would it do her any good?   I need to call Mrs. Hudson and tell her to expect Mrs. Sambal.”   Sherlock quickly called Mrs. Hudson and sweet talked her into allowing Nicole to stay the night. 

After hanging up, he began to search every corner of the dining room.

Standing up, he found John in his way.

 “You take advantage of that woman too much,” John complained.

“She likes to help me. Now are you going to help me search or not?”

“Are you going to tell me why you sent her to Mrs. Hudson?”  

“Once more you hear but don’t understand.   Her problems began once she married Antonio who has a nasty temper and quick to anger.   His first wife died accidentally.  While she was talking I looked up the accident.  It seems when she fell she landed on a piece of a glass vase that had fallen with her.  The glass cut her head off.”

John stared at him, “That’s not possible unless the glass was very heavy and large.”

“The pathologist agreed with you, but nothing could be proven.   Then I looked up Antonio Sambal and it seems his first wife left him millions of dollars on her death.  Finally, the only things disturbed before their arrival here was his.”

“It seems to me he murdered his wife, but who is destroying the house?” 

“John, although I’m a scientist there are somethings that are unable to be explained.  Some believe a ghost can haunt a residence while others believe it can be attracted to a person. Personally, I believe it’s all rubbish. Now can we get back to ensuring everything is locks up tight and wait for our vandal.”

Lights off the two men sat on opposites couches in the dining room.   Speaking softly, they discussed the other case that they would be following on Monday.   As the night dragged on, John slipped into sleep.  Sherlock noticing it stood only to fall to the floor into a mist that covered it.

“Stop it, John,” Sherlock groggy voice complained pulling covers back over him.  

Giggles echoed in the room, as the covers were pulled down again, Sherlock turned on the couch while grabbing the covers that were being pulled off again.

“I’ wanta play,” the giggle voice said. 

Sherlock looked at the transparent figure before him.  He knew he was asleep but felt himself sitting up and grabbing his head that was pounding.  He could see John sleeping soundly on the other couch.  

Slowly the night came back to him.  He had fallen on the floor so how did he wake up on the couch.

 “Who are you?” Sherlock asked the child.  Her dress was flowing around her as if a wind was blowing hard. 

“I’m Isabelle and I want to play with you,” a whisper answered followed by a giggle.

“Isabelle, do you know how I got on the couch?” 

“My friend Abigail put you there.  She says the floor is hard and I shouldn’t have made the mist come and put you to sleep.   But I want to play and everyone else runs away from me.” The sad whisper explained.  “Can I ask you a question?”

“You can if you’re not boring,” Sherlock allowed.

Giggle, giggle, giggle.  “You are funny.   Why are you not afraid of me?”

“I believe you’re a dream figment of my concussed brain.  So why are you here?”

“I lost my mommy and daddy. They left me here after I feel down the stairs and I cannot find them now.   They always told me not to leave the house without them, so I am waiting for them.   What is your name?”

“Sherlock,” he said as he tried to figure out why he was dreaming this.  He never dreamed of anything but horrors of his past.

“I do not like Sherlock so I am going to call you Lockie.  Will you play with me now?”

“You’ll not call me Lockie and I’m way too busy to play with you.”  He felt his body raising, “Where is this Abigail?”

“Behind you,” a soft voice said.

Spinning around, he saw a transparent beautiful woman, negligée flowing around her, head in her hand coming down the stairs.  “You need to protect Nicole.  My husband is evil.”

“And you are?” He asked, not even concerned what he saw couldn’t be.

Furious she answered, “Abigail Sambal, my husband’s first wife who he murdered.”

“And so, you’re trying to scare Nicole out of her house.”  Sherlock challenged her.

“No, I want my husband dead.  I’m not the first woman he killed for their money.  He is a slaughterer of women.  He needs to die.”  Abigail hissed.

“And how madam, do you plan to do it?  You have no form or mass.  This dream is ridiculous.  I’m talking to myself.”  Sherlock was angry with himself that he couldn’t wake up and discover he was still on the floor.

A heavy Indignant wind blew him back onto the floor, “You’re not listening, Mr. Holmes.  I plan on killing my husband and demand you help me.”

“I don’t kill murderers, I arrest them.” 

“So, what happened to Charles Magnuseen then?”  The ghost demanded.

“A mistake on my part that I don’t intend to repeat.”  Sherlock quietly said.

A booming voice echoed through the room, “So you get to decide who is to be killed and who to live.   I want Antonio dead.”

 “Summon my husband,” Abigail ordered.

“I will do no such thing,” he replied.

“Then I will,” she said. 

“Can we play now, Abie?  I want to play with Lockie,” Isabelle pouted.

“Not yet, sweetheart.  Soon someone else will be here to play with,” Abigail ran her free hand through the girl’s hair.

“Seeing we’ll be waiting for someone, what exactly happened to you?” Sherlock asked the ghost crossing his legs and leaning against the back of the couch.

“I found out about Antonio’s previous three wives that he married under different names who died mysteriously and confronted him.  He attempted to push me down the stairs of our mansion.  I fought him but he was able to overwhelm me and send me down them.  He came to find me still alive but unable to move.  Grabbing a glass vase, he broke it on the banister, taking a large piece of it and pressing it into my neck and severing it before setting up the scene to look like it happened in the fall.”

“And how do you know all this?  You were dead by this point.”  Sherlock challenged.

“I know you think if you can’t see it, it’s not true.  But there’s life after death, and I saw him doing it.”  She shot back.

Before anything else could be said, Antonio burst into the room.   “What the hell is this, Holmes?”  He demanded shoving a text message in his face.  Sherlock found himself unable to free himself from the couch and only able to watch what was happening.

A whispery voice spoke, “I sent it Antonio, my dear husband.”

The murderer turned and became ghostly white.  “You’re dead.”

“Yes, I am.  I don’t intend to allow you kill another woman, my husband.”

Anger rushed through Antonio.  “I killed you once and I’ll do it again.   He ran at his dead wife as she floated up the steps.  As he reached the top of the stairs, Abigail said, “You can play now.”  Isabelle ran through his legs causing him to fall backwards down the staircase.  A glass vase smashed against the floor as Antonio landed on the ground, its shards poking through his neck, killing him. 

The night broke through John’s slumber causing him to blink at his sleeping roommate on the floor.  “Sherlock?”   He called out as he attempted to go to him.

A giggle and then John saw a small girl standing over Sherlock.  “Thanks for playing with my Lockie.  I need to go now.  Isabelle said she’ll stay with me until mummy and daddy come back.” Then disappeared.

Nicole entered the room to see Antonio’s body at the bottom of the steps and the men just waking up from the couch. 

“Antonio,” she cried rushing and falling to the ground over him. Blood covering her, as she attempted to hug him.

John gently picked her up and moved her to the chair.

“Don’t mourn him.  He’s a criminal who killed his previous four wives for their money.  You’re lucky to be rid of him.”  Sherlock said.

“Sherlock!” John yelled.

“What it’s the truth.  She needs to know.”  Sherlock explained.

“It’s not good, you git.  He husband is laying there dead and no matter what he did she loved him.”  Came the cross answer.

“Emotions are not useful in this situation,” and with that Sherlock went into the other room to call the police.  When they came, Sherlock explained that Antonio had fallen down the stairs, landing on broken glass that killed him. 

After the police left and the body was taken away, Nicole demanded that Sherlock explained to her what he had learned about her husband.  He looked at John to ensure that he wasn’t going to get in further trouble with his partner before explaining the information to her.

“What do I do with this house now, Mr. Holmes?  I can’t live where my husband died no matter what he did before.”  Nicole asked.

Sherlock pulled his coat close to himself as he headed for the door. 

“Mr. Holmes, you didn’t answer my question.  What do I do with the house?”

Sherlock twirled around, face without emotion.  “Either accept what happened there or sell it.   Whatever you decide, I’m done here.”   Giggles followed the Sherlock down the walk and a whispered ‘good-bye Lockie” and “I’ll watch over Isabelle now.”

John caught up with his partner as they reached the road.  “You’re admitting to the possibility of a ghost?”

The cab Sherlock hailed pulled up and he hurried in.  John jumped into the cab, “Do you plan to answer my question?”

“I believe that someone was looking for justice for his other wives. It will no longer be a problem with him dead.”

“And the child, I saw you talking to when I woke up?”  John pushed.

“Dreaming evidently.  We’ve discussed this more than enough.”  Sherlock stated before turning to the window.

John smiled.  He knew Sherlock would never admit there was anything else including a friendly ghost of a small girl but he knew Sherlock would be on the computer looking into the reason for the things that happened in the house.

.  We’ve discussed this more than enough.”  Sherlock stated before turning to the window.

John smiled.  He knew Sherlock would never admit there was anything else including a friendly ghost of a small girl but he knew Sherlock would be on the computer looking into the reason for the things that happened in the house.


End file.
